The Imperfections of Malfoy Manor
by Maeve-Tyrell
Summary: Even without troubles of her own, how can Hermione cope with a new year at Hogwarts, a redheaded boyfriend as well as the attention of a mysterious and elusive boy...
1. Memories

DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to believe, I am NOT J K Rowling. I do not own any of her characters, nor settings. I simply fell in love with her world and want to have a go and creating a version of my own. (This is a Dramione canon)

She felt trapped in a room cluttered with boxes. She didn't want to leave any of it behind; The lilac walls. The white bed. The chipped and priceless furniture. How could she not pack up the things she loved and knew the best. How could she leave behind the possessions with memories clinging to them like dust. For only a touch could rouse or disturb the dust and uncover what she had done, seen. Everything she had been… _And _become. How could the memories she had made in this room be boxed and shipped. The answer was simple. They just couldn't be. That was the ugly truth.

The Polaroid photos hung on string banners seemed to glare back at her. She turned to the wooden and elegantly ornate mirror she had hung behind her lilac chest of drawers, spilling clothes out of its crakes. Looking at her reflection was a thing of self-indulgence that she wouldn't normally have time for. Evaluating the girl in the mirror, she saw a slight, mousy brown haired girl of about 19 years. Staring into her eyes was strangely satisfying. They were smouldering, chestnut gold eyes glittered with flakes like embers. Skin pale from the grey sun sunk low in the milky London sky. Looking down to her clothes, obviously she didn't care much but valued comfort highly. Wearing a pair of skinny-jeans and sweater gradient from the colour of pale sky grey to a dark storm. Hair tied carelessly in a messy bun. Forcing herself, with the prickling sensation of tears, to gaze at her wrists. One in a sterile white cast from the tip of her fingers to just below her elbow, and the other with just one word etched into the very skin she wore. The memory burning like fever in her flesh, tearing into her chest.

_Mudblood…_

Hermione had been to a therapist. Of course, one from the Wizard's world. The truth would have been too hard to conceal as the tears came, the rasped groans and gasps that racked her body. Recounting the memories she had tried to conceal. Hermione knew, as she traced one finger across her right arm, she would bare those scars for the rest of her life. There was surly a spell or potion to erase them from her body. But what an awful, unforgivable and horrible thing it would be to forget… _To forget those who died for us._

Hemione's watch blared. Lifting it up, she read 8:01. After looking one last time in the mirror, Hermione turned away and started towards the door. September 1st, the start of a new school year. The trio was broken up. Harry and Ron had gone to pursue a career as an Auror. Ron and she had started dating, which seemed so inexplicably normal for what they'd been through. Hermione's life seemed in pieces, yet was still holding together with temporary craft glue. The Weasley's were doing okay. Percy was in contact more and Fleur and Bill were expecting a child. Hagrid had regained his position at Hogwarts as head gamekeeper. Professor mcgonagall was resident Headmaster until further notice. Harry was… Harry was stronger.

And her life had began. Away from the threat and the danger, Hermione was growing into her own. Without Harry or Ron. She had began a new.


	2. The year begins

DISCLAIMER: Not J K Rowling. Sorry to disappoint. But in all honesty, I don't have any claim to her characters or settings. Just my own take on an internationally famous book series… Nothing to live up to! Thanks.

It wasn't until after the Volkswagen beetle had left the driveway, that Hermione felt the journey began. The car engine spluttered, dragging Hermione further down the road. She was finished being depressed. It _was_ a new beginning, after all. Or as close as you can get to one. For today, she only had to ride the train. Wherever it might take her. Pondering, Hermione realised, "Wait. That was _much_ deeper than anticipated…" Slumped against the soft, supple leather seat calmed her. How many times had she sat in the litter strewn, air freshener smelling, leather seat covered, azure blue beetle. _Too_ many times. And yet in the same, not enough. After slouching for so long, there was bound to be some _real _damage to her tailbone. Finally managing to stretch, wide mouthed in a yawn. Mr Granger absentmindedly taped the steering wheel. Humming a jovial tune, thinking about his baby leaving for another year of school. For them, it would mean quiet dinners, lonely days and silent nights. John and Mary Granger had sat Hermione down, smiling their worried parental smiles. Suggesting that she might not return to Hogwarts, staying at home to recover for longer.

"We're were concerned," they said. "We're were not sure," they said.

But Hermione _was_ sure. That she would do her NEWTS, all twelve of them. But she knew there were other reasons too. Concealing them in the midst of depression… She wanted to be independent. She needed to escape to the only place she _could_ escape. Hogwarts. There was another small and unimportant reason. One that she never discussed. Never let the words slip out, in case the shadows were listening. It was that she didn't feel safe. Anywhere. Not in her room, with the covers pulled high over her ears and mouth until she could no longer breath the sticky, humid air. Not in the nearby park, where all Hermione heard were the children's laughs turned into screams. Not at dinner, where every bite swallowed stuck in her throat. Threatening to choke her. These nightmares, of the followers in the dark and the figures in the distance, plagued Hermione day and night. But at Hogwarts, she was safe. In closed, impenetrable stone walls and wooden doors. Stone guards who patrolled the borders. Everyone there would protect her, protect each other. And they _could_, unlike her defenceless, magic-less parents. Who even she might not be able to defend. At Hogwarts, she was safe. Perhaps she might be safe from the nightmares and the daydreams alike as well. Hermione said nothing on the journey to King's Cross. Tired of John's shiny smile, she slept as the sounds of the countryside turned to the noise of the motorway. Hermione felt delirious as she dreamed. They were cloudy, hard to make out. Suddenly, her whole world began to rock back and forth. Hermione felt as if she was being dragged to the edge of a cliff. Panicked and scared. Alone and frightened. A pounding in her ear, splitting her head in half. _Hermione!_ _Hermione. _"Hermione." John's hands were wrapped around her shoulders, his expression calm and relaxed. "We've arrived." The station was stained with the black soot that seems in endless supply. Arches, rails, mobs of people. Walking along a winding platform soon became tedious. Hermione struggled as she navigated her metal trolley. Assuming it would never end, she toyed with the idea of being stuck on a platform. With no ticket, no where to go. The ticket she did have had lived constantly in her teal wallet. The same wallet she had received on her 18th birthday. That was what she had felt grounded by, the ticket. Knowing that she would, in 3 months time, get on the train to Hogwarts. Her trolley jammed. It was wedged in between two men trying to board the 10:45 train to Evesham.

"Sorry," was all Hermione could manage. Not too much longer, she thought. Looking ahead at a visible sign in the distance, from what she could make out 'Platform 9' was inscribed. Stopping abruptly underneath the sign, she could feel her stomach growing tighter and eyes grow watery. She knew this wasn't the time to start getting emotional. Catching her breath, Hermione thought, "I have to be strong." Hermione looked round to see her teary-eyed father.

"Dad, don't cry." She sniffed. "I love you…" She spoke whilst wheezing into his shoulder.

"Honey, we love you so much. I promise that you an always come home." John sighed. "Go. You don't want to miss the train." After squeezing her shoulders and planting a kiss on her forehead, he turned and left. _Deep breath_. Hermione shoved her trolley hard into the wall, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. The deep, guttural sounds of the station morphed into the excited chatter of the students of Hogwarts. Slowly evening her eyes, Hermione found hundreds of kids of all ages running rampage across the platform. The scarlet steam train bellowed tendrils of white smoke. Looking above the chaos glinted a polished sign reading '9 3/4'. After squeezing through the gaps of people and receiving the occasional elbow to her ribs, Hermione reached the front of the mob. The luggage she had packed included only her purse and a matching set of coffee leather cases, varying only in size. One was as wide as her trolley, the other was small enough to fit on her bookshelf. It took no time at all to load them into the luggage carriage that looked as though it would burst like a geyser of water any time soon. Not wanting to risk having to fight through the crowd again, Hermione boarded the train and proceeded to walk tediously through each carriage in turn. The Gryffindor compartments were in the 5th and 6th car, _if I remember correctly. _Students jostled about, unplaceable without their House's distinctive colours. Squeezing over the threshold of each car was a task itself, however Hermione also had to wrestle the side car door open. It had, after all, been unused and desolate for over a term. Hermione reached an empty Gryffindor compartment, but only after suffering through several awkward encounters, 5 side car door wrestling matches and not one other empty compartment. With a depleted sigh, Hermione realised that she had no one to sit with on the journey. She hadn't even thought about it but it was almost tradition that the trio would ride the Hogwarts express all the way to Scotland. And now, here she was. All alone, with no one to share a compartment with…

The compartment she had chosen was identical to the ones she had ridden in before. With a double panelled window draped in scarlet curtains, two _almost_ couches containing three seats wrapped in red fabric mildly resembling tweed that faced each other on either end of the compartment. There was a wooden rack for luggage hovering just below the ceiling. Whilst Hermione plonked down on the left hand window seat, the train violently lurched forward. It pulled slowly out of the station and into the blinding light. Inside the artificially light station, you seem to forget the intensity of the sun. Hermione cradled her head in her palm with her elbow pressed against the cold glass. Her feet absentmindedly tapped the wooden panel running in between the two couches.

There came a knock on the glass door separating Hermione's compartment from the slim corridor that ran all through the train. Astrid's blonde chignon bun appeared from behind the slight door frame. Her eyes bulged like that of a cat. "Hermione." Astrid spoke with a certain intrigue and awe in thE tone of her voice. "Could I join you?" It was as if she spoke gently to a woodland animal, careful not to scare it away.

"Sure Astrid." Hermione smiled faintly. And in reply, Astrid beamed. Grinning from ear to ear, and scrunching her eyelids closed. "Thanks!" Astrid slid along the sofa seats facing Hermione. She sat on the seat in the middle of the row. Astrid reminded Hermione of Luna Lovegood. Astrid wasn't _as_ strange as Luna, but they did share the look in their eyes and the perplexed haze in their voices. Luna had always seemed a curious person to Hermione. She seemed too distanced. But Astrid was different. She was inquisitive. Astrid was passionate and lively. Smiling constantly, as if it cost her nothing. As if she had an endless supply of both smiles, patience and reliability in other people. She had been sorted into Ravenclaw house, and that had meant that Hermione had rarely seen Astrid at school. In fact, Hermione could not recall one encounter with Astrid. But Hermione needed _someone_. After all, Astrid was lovely and sweet. And she kept to herself most of the time, like Hermione did. Their conversations on the train ride weren't uncomfortable, but pleasant and brief. Astrid hadn't forced any intention. And the silence was sweet, not stiff. Astrid spent most of the journey gazing at a spot between the seats and the door to the corridor. And as the sky plunged into darkness, the train shuddered to a halt. Hermione glanced briefly outside the window to be greeted by Hogsmeade station, before exiting the train. She walked in silence next to astrid in a crowd on 6th and 7th years. The open roofed carriages waited just past the wrought iron gate into Hogwarts' grounds. The thesrals pulling them were visible this year, at least to Hermione. Bringing back a gush of sad thoughts.

Astrid pulled close to Hermione and whispered, "I suppose everyone can see them this year." And with a crushing blow to her heart, Hermione realised that Astrid was right. _Everyone_ would see them this year. And that would only cause their healing wounds to bleed.


End file.
